Love Comes First
by AnnieBrodieSangster
Summary: I suppose there are a lot of things that give me good reason to suspect my marriage is falling apart. / QLFC Season 2, Round 13. Oneshot.


_Quidditch League Round 13_

_Position: Beater 1_

_Prompts:_

_(quote)"Life is life, fight for it." ― Mother Teresa_

_(style) first person narrative_

_Task: Write a romantic fic about the pairing: Neville/Hannah_

_Word Count: 2,544_

"Are you coming inside, Neville, dear?" Hannah calls from the greenhouse door. I grunt in response, not even looking up from the Puffapod I am meticulously grooming. I hear Hannah sigh, but what can I do? The first years are studying Puffapods on Wednesday and they need attention desperately. "The feast will be starting any minute," she chides. I stay silent and she leaves a moment later – but not before sighing in frustration.

I have to admit, the spark has gone from our marriage. At first, it was one of those crazy loves where we just had to be with each other; all day, every day. Then I replaced Professor Sprout as Herbology teacher and Hannah got the job as Matron, so that we could stay close. But working and living in such close quarters didn't do the wonders for our marriage we had thought it would.

But really, it's not my fault that, agriculturally wise, it has not been a very good year and the plants need lots of attention. I'm just doing my part. It's my _job_, for Merlin's sake!

Nonetheless, I know I need to appreciate Hannah more. She has been absolutely brilliant, looking after our darling daughter Luna. It's been hard, not having much time to look after your kids, but I try to make do. As long as I'm always there for the important things, she says, then it's alright.

I suppose there are a lot of things that give me good reason to suspect my marriage is falling apart. Endless, insignificant arguments; long lapses of silence; not _minding_ being apart for days on end when we're too busy to go to sleep at normal times. However, call me a romantic, but I believe that true love will be able to come out on top, no matter what happens. If the love Hannah and I feel for each other is true, then nothing can stop us.

The Puffapods are all groomed and ready for Wednesday's lesson. Brilliant. I just hope I'm in time for the feast.

I rush inside and into the Great Hall just as the first few students start spilling in. Taking my place at the Staff Table, I wonder if Hannah has the same views on love as I do. Maybe she really does think that our love has come to an end. I _must_ remember to do something good for her.

The Headmistress, Marietta Edgecombe, stands when everyone is seated. She lifts her hands and everyone goes silent. I've always marvelled at how much control she holds over the students. None of them speak; not because they are scared, but because they _respect_ her. All of the staff wonder how she does it. There are many conspiracy theories; does she drug the pumpkin juice? No, we checked. Is she threatening them? No, we kept an eye on her for 48 hours once and she was nothing but polite. It might have something to do with the fact that she is remarkably beautiful. I have often noticed some of the male students staring at her a bit too hard, for a bit too long. Then again, Marietta _was_ in Ravenclaw. Perhaps she just worked out the very best way to conduct herself around the students so that they would like and admire her. Merlin knows she's smart enough.

As I'm thinking, I suddenly find that I have been staring at Marietta. I feel my cheeks go warm and I'm sure I'm blushing. It's a good thing Hannah isn't here to see that; she has been very suspicious of mine and Marietta's relationship in the past. She just doesn't realise that Marietta has a passion for Herbology.

I sigh. Maybe Hannah has good reason to suspect the worst of our marriage. We don't seem to have been getting along well at all lately. That's it. I _need_ to do something romantic for her.

When I get back to my room, I check the calendar – perfect! It's our anniversary in just under a month. That's plenty of time to prepare a brilliant way to declare my love for her.

* * *

Okay, it's official. I _suck_ at romance. I've had dozens of ideas but they are all either absolutely terrible, or ridiculously wishful – and we're _wizards_. There aren't that many things that we can't do.

No. If I want to do this well – which I do – I'll have to enlist someone else's help. I'm in Herbology with the Fifth Years. They're currently monitoring the Self-Fertilising Shrubs while I sit up at the front, worrying about my women problems. Just then, I hear a shriek of laughter. Looking up sharply, I find the source of this disruption immediately; James Sirius Potter. Notorious for his pranking and Quidditch skills and for being a massive lady's man. Perfect.

"Potter!" I call out. James looks up and bites his lip. "Can I have a word, please?"

He nods and shoots a smirk at his friend before walking up to the front. "Did I do something wrong, Prof?" he asks.

I smile, as genuinely as I can. "No, no," I assure him. Although I'm sure it wouldn't bother him that much if he _was_ in trouble. "I won't keep you long. Actually – this is kind of embarrassing – I need your help."

James, to his credit, looked utterly surprised. Whether it was because I needed his assistance or just because he _wasn't_ in trouble, I couldn't tell. "_You_ need _my_ help?" he asked incredulously. "With what?"

Feeling my cheeks growing warm again, I speak quickly. "I'll tell you later. Would you please meet me here at breaktime, tomorrow?"

Looking unsure, James hesitates. "I don't know…" he says. "I probably shouldn't interfere with your life, outside academia." I am surprised by his sophisticated language. I don't know if he notices my look of surprise, but he doesn't mention it.

"I could always write you a detention slip so that you _have_ to come," I say slyly. James narrows his eyes.

"Okay," he sighs. "I'll come."

I smile. "Thank you," I say sincerely. "Now, get back to work, Potter!" He nods and heads back to his place, but I can see the hint of a smile on his face after being told a teacher needs _his_ help. I hope Hannah appreciates all the effort and embarrassment I am going through to make our anniversary a success.

* * *

James gave me the idea of a beautiful, moonlit tour of a garden full of my rarest and most wonderful flowers, bred just for her. I loved the idea and I've even added my own touch. However, I've been spending every spare minute down in the greenhouses and in the patch of grounds Edgecombe has let me use for my garden.

Hannah is not taking it too well. Obviously, I have not been able to tell her anything and she thinks I'm avoiding her.

"Are you down here _again_?" I hear a voice at the door and hastily hide one of my flowers under the table. Everything must be a surprise and if she sees me tending flowers that aren't part of the school curriculum, she may get suspicious and ask questions. Questions are the _last_ thing I need right now.

I give Hannah an apologetic, sheepish smile. "I'm sorry, Hannah, I really am, but these plants-"

"_Yes_," she snarls. "I know 'these plants'. These plants that seem to get to spend more time with you than I do! These plants that make me feel like I don't even have a husband anymore! These plants that are tearing Luna's beloved father away from her and her mum, who just wants nothing more than for us to spend some nice, quality, _family _time together! Well, guess what, Neville. I am _sick_ of these plants!" When she finishes her outburst, Hannah is breathing hard. I sit there, staring in bewilderment. Finally, I come to my senses and stand up. Placing my flower on the floor, I walk slowly over to her. Hannah is shaking and I pull her into a hug, stroking her hair and murmuring soothing words.

"I'm sorry, Hannah," I whisper. "I really am."

We stay like that for a minute or two, until she eventually breaks away. "So are you going to stop coming down to the plants every evening?" she asks softly.

I sigh. I _can't_. If I do, I won't have enough time to finish the garden before our anniversary. But how can I tell her this without giving away that I'm planning something big?

"I'm sorry, Hannah," I say again, and her smile drops. She looks down at the floor, the disappointment evident on her pale features. "The plants need me, now more than ever."

Hannah looks up again, her sadness gone, her eyes like cold, unforgiving ice. "Why?" she asks. "Why do you care so _bloody_ much about these plants?"

I shrug helplessly. "Life is life," I say feebly. "We need to fight for it."

"Well love is _love_," she counters angrily. "So why won't you fight for _that_?"

I take her hands in mine but she pulls back. "Hannah, don't worry. Soon, everything will be different. I promise."

"No," she walks back to stand in the doorway. Just before she leaves, Hannah turns back to face me. "I'm tired of your empty promises. Come and find me when you sort out your priorities."

* * *

It's the morning of our anniversary and I slowly ease open the door to mine and Hannah's room. "Good morning Hannah," I coo softly. Her eyelids flutter and she sits up, yawning.

"Neville?" she asks, rubbing her bleary eyes. I nod and sit down beside her on the bed. It's early in the morning – I don't know how early – and I've been up all night, putting the finishing touches to my garden.

"Don't say anything," I tell her. "Just put a cloak on and follow me," she frowns and I sigh. Is she still mad? Since our fight a few weeks ago, we haven't spoken much. Hannah busied herself with being the Matron and I focused on the garden.

But I had been hoping that her anger had faded away by now. Or that at least it wouldn't stop her from coming with me now. "I'm sorry about everything that's happened, but it's all been leading up to this. Please, give me a chance to make it up to you."

Hannah sighs and nods. I pass her cloak over and smile warmly at her. She rolls her eyes. "Just show me whatever it is, Neville," she says tiredly.

I leave the room and start down the hallway, looking back every few seconds to check she is following.

We cross the grounds quickly, the early morning air sharp and cold. Finally, we reach the garden. I lead Hannah in and she gasps, her breath making a cloud in the foggy air around us.

"It's beautiful," she breathes. Rows of Aconite and Asphodel, Dittany and Daisies, Flitterbloom and Flutterby Bushes, Hellebore and Holly and Knotgrass and Hornbeam and so many others. The plants and flowers were tightly packed in the small area but somehow it still looked neat, flowers next to flowers that complimented each other, plants growing near other plants that were a perfect pair. And there, in the centre of it all, was the centre piece. The icing on the cake. The star at the top of the Christmas tree. The most beautiful, breath-taking flower Hannah had ever seen.

It had the softest looking petals, a pale blue – Hannah's favourite colour – with gold dust sprinkled on top. The whole thing had a soft pink haze surrounding it and there seemed to be a gentle twinkling sound emitting from the centre of the beautiful flower. Hannah stands there, staring, for what feels like an age. Eventually, she turns to me. "It really is," she says. "It's beautiful."

I can feel myself blushing and will it to go away. "I bred it myself," I tell her. "The only one of its kind."

She stares at it, transfixed, for a while more. Then, as if a spell has been broken, she blinks and looks back at me again. "What's it called?" she asks.

I smile. "That's the best part," I tell her. "Since I bred it, I got to name it. I have called it…" I pull her in close, wrap my arms around her and breathe in her soft hair. Then I whisper the name into her ear. Hannah pulls back the slightest amount, so that she can see my face.

"Really?" she asks. I nod. "Thank you," she whispers. We stay like that for a long time, neither of us talking, the faint lullaby of my flower the only sound. "Neville…" she says eventually. "Is this what you had been busy doing, the past few months? Preparing this?"

I pause. I had certainly been focusing on this the past _month_… But the past few months? Not really. "Yes," I tell her, hating myself immediately. She deserves to know that it wasn't all good like that. For the months before that, I had just been a plain old selfish jerk. But telling her all that would just ruin the moment. Right?

"Oh Neville," she says. "I'm so sorry I got mad at you," I place a delicate kiss on her forehead.

"You are forgiven. You are _always_ forgiven, Hannah. Love comes first. I promise."

Hannah hugs me tight and I feel her warmth against me, banishing away the cold air around us. It feels like the rest of the world has slipped away, leaving just us, in this garden, right now. "I believe you," she whispers. "But… Why did you do all this?"

She sits down and I sit next to her, clasping her hand in mine, interlocking our fingers. "Because I love you," I say simply. "And it's our anniversary. I wanted to do something special, something that _meant _something. I've not been the best husband recently, and I want to make up for it."

The hint of a smile plays on her lips as she replies, "No more empty promises?" I guess she is thinking of when she last accused me of just saying empty promises. Now, she knows that I was just spending time with the plants to prepare for this. But what about before that? Then, I was just being horrible.

"No more empty promises," I agree.

She smiles properly now, one that lights up her whole face and makes my heart melt with happiness. "And will you stop spending so much time with the plants now? Unless they are dying, I think they can manage without you."

Hannah rests her head on my shoulder and I nod. "Love comes first," I say again. "I promise," and I mean those words more than I've meant any words in my life.

We stay like that; our hands clasped together, her head on my shoulder. We see the sun rise and hear the early risers back at the castle start to get up. But we ignore it all. Because right there, right then, in that moment, is just us.

Just me, just Hannah, just the garden, just my beautiful flower I bred just for her. The flower I named _Hannah_.


End file.
